It's not what it seems
by mandancie
Summary: Teenchester! Dean 18/ Sam 14. John has always tried to protect his boys from the authorities, but sometimes it can't be helped. Warnings: language, verbal abuse. Rated T for language. Please read and review! :)
1. Chapter 1

Summary: John had always tried to be careful not to raise too much attention to the fact that Sam and Dean were left alone for long periods of time. John had always tried to tell his sons never write anything down that would attract unwanted attention. Sometimes it's better to listen to your father.

Special thanks to: AlElizabeth for beta'ing my story!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke. (Although I wish I did)

Present Time (Prologue)

Sam is sitting alone in the "Men of Letters" library that Dean nicknamed the Batcave writing notes on the red ledger they recieved from the Judah Initiative. Dean walks in the library.

"What are you doing?" Dean asks. Sam slams the ledger close and looks up at Dean.

"Nothing," Sam says, a little startled.

"Seriously, what are you doing?" Dean asks again, walking over to Sam and grabbing the paper he was writing on.

"Dean," Sam complains, trying to make a grab for the paper, but Dean holds it out of his reach.

"Wait a minute," Dean tries to calm his brother. Why is this stupid note so important to him away? It only makes Dean all the more curious to know what Sam's up to.

"Give it back," His younger brother demands irritably.

"In a minute. What is this?" Dean assures his sibling and relaxes once he sees Sam begin to relent.

Sam gives up trying to get the paper back and looks down at the table. Dean opens up the ledger and sees what Sam was copying.

"What is this?" Dean asked again.

"I was just cataloging the Thule Society from the log. It's nothing," Sam waves Dean's insistent question away dismissively.

"Oh okay," Dean shrugs and hands the paper back to Sam and walks over to the mini fridge that was behind him.

"You've got nothing? Just 'oh okay'?" Sam asks his brother incredulously, "I thought you'd be upset."

"Upset? Why would I be upset? You writing all that crap down it means I don't have to." Dean says, sitting down at the table opposite his brother, "What's gotten into you?"

"It's just...it was my fault and I didn't want any more problems," Sam explains, sounding guilty and sheepish for no apparent reason that Dean can figure out.

Dean's eyebrows furrow in puzzlement. What was Sam talking about?

"You remember," Sam prompts reluctantly and looks down at the red ledger sitting on the tabletop.

"No, Sammy, I don't." Dean can't figure out what's suddenly bothering his brother so much but he knows that whatever it is, he needs to find out now because he hates that self-incriminating look on Sam's face.

"When they took me," Sam says quietly, sadly and Dean's heart drops down to the level of his stomach as he realizes what his brother is so worried about.

"Oh Sammy," Dean closes his eyes and lowers his head as the memories crash over him like a tsunami, drowning out everything but that horrible time when Sam was gone.

"See. You do remember."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One**

Spring 1997

"Dean, it's not fair," Sam growled angrily.

"I told you not to get to close to anyone," Dean reminded his brother. They were walking home from school. Well, to the motel they were currently considering as 'home' for the time being.

"You know you can be a big jerk sometimes," Sam told Dean, fuming.

Dean sighed. He knew it was hard to leave his friends. As a matter of fact, it was the first time Sam really had managed to make any friends. They had actually stayed in one place for most of the school year because of a particularly involved hunt John was on. Dean knew it would be hard for Sam not to make friends since they had been going to this school since the beginning of December and it was now April already, school nearly over. Dean also knew Sam was more upset because there was a girl that Sam liked at the school (and apparently the feeling was mutual). Dean knew his brother wasn't really angry with him, but that they would be leaving very soon, their father's hunt nearly wrapped up.

"Sammy," Dean wheedled and gave his brother a cocky smile.

"Dean, I don't want to leave. I actually have friends here. I'm not a freak," Sam sighed, not looking his brother in the eye.

"I know, Kiddo and I'm sorry. But you know the rules. No attachments," Dean reminded lightly, wishing that just for once, their father could let Sam stay in one school for the entire year. Or, Dean thought, maybe not… maybe its best just to keep moving from school to school every couple of months and always be the new kid so Sam wouldn't have time to get to know anyone (and get his heart broken).

"This sucks," Sam lamented as they turned the corner to go to the motel they were staying at. Dean notice that there was an unfamiliar car parked in front of their motel room and that a stranger was knocking on their room door. Dean and Sam stopped instantly with one hand on the younger boy's chest.

"Dean," Sam asked, slightly frightened. "Who is that?"

"I don't know. Come on," Dean said, putting his arm around Sam and escorting him to the motel room. Instinctively, Sam moved closer to Dean till he was almost behind him.

"Can I help you?" Dean asked warily as they walked up to their room.

"Yes," the woman said with a turn towards the boy's voice. "Are you Dean?" She asked looking at the two teens.

"Who are you?" Dean demanded. Just because she was a woman didn't automatically mean she couldn't be a threat.

"I'm sorry, my name is Cynthia Jennings. I'm with Children Protective Services. I am looking for Sam Winchester."

Sam shrunk more into Dean's side. Dean stepped in front of Sam. Cynthia walked towards Dean and Sam and extended her hand as if to grab for Sam, and Dean quickly swatted her hand away.

"Don't touch him," Dean said as calmly as possible, trying to contain the anger that was quickly filling up his belly. There was a tug on Dean's jacket and he notice Sam was white-knuckling him to the point that he could feel his brothers fingers through his coat, digging into his skin. Dean noticed that there was someone behind Sam trying to pry his brother away from him. Dean, trying to maneuver his body out of the way, tried to get Sam out of the man's grip. Where had he come from? Dean hadn't even seen the man approach. He punched the man in the jaw to get him to let go of his brother.

As the struggle continued, the familiar sound of a V8 engine came roaring towards the opponents. The driver slammed the car in park and rushed from the vehicle. John saw Dean trying to fend off a man who was attempting to grab Sam and Sam was holding on to Dean as if his life depended on it. Without pausing to think, John moved into action. He ran up and grabbed the man who had his hands on Sam and pinned him in to the wall beside the motel room door.

"Touch him again," John dared the intruder in a low enough tone that only the man could hear. "And I promise you that will be the last thing you do."

John stepped away from the man and stood next to Dean who was now holding Sam in his arms. Sam had his legs wrapped around Dean's waist and his arms draped around his shoulders, his head nestled in the crook of Dean's neck.

"What the hell is going on?" John asked the woman who had been standing to one side, watching the fight the entire time.

"I'm from Child Protective Services. My name is Cynthia Jennings," she said offering out her hand to the older Winchester. John just looked at and did not move from his spot. She continued, "I'm here to take Sam."

Sam grip tightened around Dean. Dean whispers in Sam's ear. "It's okay. No, you're not going anywhere. Trust me. You're not leaving me. I promise."

"You're not going anywhere with my son," John yelled in the woman's face.

"You're son? I was told he was living here alone," the woman, who didn't seem taken aback by the spittle that was sprinkled on her face, seemed confused to learn that Sam actually had a family.

"Someone lied to you," Dean added, still holding onto his terrified sibling, "Sammy's never alone."

"I think you better leave," John told Cynthia.

Cynthia backed up away from John, as if in fear for her life. She knew if she stayed any longer that she would probably not make it home tonight in one piece by the way John and Dean were looking at her. She walked back to her car and drove off. John and Dean waited until both she and the man were gone before the moving. John walked into the motel room and began packing all of their possessions. Dean went over to the car with Sam still in his arms. He knew the only way to really calm Sam down was to take him to somewhere familiar and safe. When he got to the car, Dean tried to put Sam down he notice Sam's grip got tighter when he tried to lower him to the pavement.

"Sammy, it's okay," Dean cooed to his frightened sibling. He could feel Sam shaking his head against his neck.

"Sam, I have to put you down so we can get in the car," Dean tried but Sam shook his head again. "No one is going to take you; I just want to get in the car. You know you're safe there."

Sam reluctantly let go of Dean's neck and slid down to the ground. His face was red from crying.

"D'n," Sam said in a tiny voice, "Why are they after me?"

"I don't know," Dean answered truthfully, "But we're going to find out. Get in the car. I'm going to help Dad pack."

Sam grabbed hold of Dean's arm, "Don't leave me alone."

"Sam," Dean said crouching down in front of his brother, "You know, no one is going to get you in this car. And as long as I am around no one would dare come near you. But I have to help Dad so we can get out of here. Just stay here." Dean stood up and closed the door, watching grimly as Sam engaged the car's locks and stared back at him, his green eyes large and wet. Dean headed back in the motel room and helped his father finish packing. Within ten minutes, Dean and John emerged from the room; put the duffel bags in the trunk. Dean got in the back seat with Sam and John got in the driver seat and sped out of the parking lot. Dean had his arm wrapped around Sam and he younger boy was laying his head against Dean's shoulder. Sam was so worn out from what happened today that he fell asleep in Dean's arms. John fished his cell phone from his pocket and called Bobby..

"They tried to take him, Bobby... I know... I don't know... They can't have my son... I won't let that happen... We're on our way... I don't know what would have happened if I didn't get there in time... They were trying to pry Sam's hands off of Dean."

Dean looked down at Sam to see if he was still sleeping- he was. Dean wondered how Children Protective Services had found them in the first place. They never let anyone know where they lived or that they were without a guardian when John left for hunts. How did that Jennings woman know their real names? The school didn't even know what their last name was.

"...We should be there by tomorrow morning." John finished his conversation with the veteran hunter and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat.

John drove all night to Sioux Falls. Dean and Sam were asleep in the back seat. While driving, John saw the sign that finally gave him a sense of calm. 'Welcome to Sioux Falls'. It was about eight in the morning. Dean woke up and looked down at Sam who was still dozing against his arm. Dean tried to stretch without waking Sam. "Dad, are we here?"

"Yeah, Dean," John said looking in the rear view mirror at his son. "We're almost there."

"Good," Dean said. "Sammy?"

Dean started shaking his brother's shoulder.

"Wakey wakey," Sam started to stir.

"D'n" Sam slurred, "Where are we?"

"We're almost at Bobby's," Dean answered happily. Bobby would know what to do. He'd help them get these CPS creeps off their trail.

John sped up when he saw the sign 'Singer's Salvage Yard' in the distance.

_00000_0000_

Bobby was outside working on one of the many cars that he had in his garage. He knew John and the boys were going to be there in a little bit. He had already made arrangements for them. The boys' room had fresh linen on the beds. He had fresh coffee brewing for John. Now he was just waiting for the familiar car to turn into his driveway.

_0000_0000_

The Impala was right outside the turn to go into Bobby's house. Sam and Dean looked out of the window of the car. "Dad!" Sam yelled while John was pulling into the long driveway. Dean saw what was coming and in a split second wrapped his arms around Sam and braced for impact.

Then there was that gut-wrenching sound of metal colliding into each other.

**TBC **

**A/N: Thank you for reading. Please take the time and review. Let me know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural**

**A special thanks to AlElizabeth for beta'ing my story!**

Chapter Two

Sam woke up in a strange room. "D'n." He looked around and saw that he was alone. "Dean!" He screamed starting to panic. He was lying on a bed, the covers pulled up to his chin and he sat up immediately, realizing that this was not Bobby's house. He stared around the room with wide eyes. He nervously took in the sight of everything that was surrounding him: a television on a stand accompanied with a slew of movies, video games that looked like went to every gaming system to date, toys galore. Everything a growing boy would love to have, but not this boy. Sam hated it already because the room had everything except the most important thing: The one thing that got him up in the morning, the one thing that took care of him for as long as he could remember. This place didn't have Dean. Sam didn't know where Dean was and that frightened him even more than waking up in a strange bedroom. The last thing he remembered was being in the Impala, so close to Bobby's… before everything went blank. Sam frowned and wracked his brain for anything that would explain what had happened and why he was here. He didn't know if he was a prisoner. He wasn't exactly tied up or anything so maybe things weren't as bad as he'd first thought.

There was a knock on the door and Cynthia walked in. Sam took note of the fact that he hadn't heard a lock disengage but allowed his face to remain passive as he glared at the woman.

"You." Sam said and bristled with anger. If this woman was the mastermind behind all of this Sam didn't think anything good could come of it. He didn't know if she really did work for Child Protective Services but he didn't think so.

"Sam," Cynthia smiled as she walked towards the bed. "I'm glad to see you're awake. I was starting to get worried." She sat down on the edge of the mattress without an invitation.

"Where is my brother?" Sam demanded, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Sam, your safe now. Your now among friends. No one will hurt you, again," Cynthia cooed lovingly to the confused young teen.

"I want my brother." Sam requested, trying to keep his temper in check. He didn't know what this woman was capable of and he didn't want to find out anytime soon.

"You don't have to worry about your brother anymore. He will never hurt you again," Cynthia assured him again in a serene tone.

Sam jumped up from the bed and faced Cynthia. "My brother NEVER hurt me!"

"Sam," Cynthia stood up and faced Sam. "You don't have to lie for your brother anymore." She put her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" Sam yelled backing away from her. "I. Want. My. Brother!" Sam screamed.

"Sammy," Cynthia started to say when Sam stalked to the television set and gave it a shove, sending it crashing onto the floor. The screen tinkled with the sound of broken glass as it landed face down.

Someone ran into the room to see what all the commotion was- a man who looked to be the same height and age as John Winchester looked to the woman, but didn't move towards Sam.

"Don't call me that! You don't get to call me that," Sam shouted at Cynthia.

"Sam. You need to calm down," Cynthia said trying to approach the teen again.

"I want my brother," Sam repeated, eyeing the two strangers.

"You'll never see your brother again," the man standing with Cynthia almost sneered. She turned and looked at the man with a horrified expression.

"Johnson, shut up," Cynthia told him. She turned back at Sam just to see him tuning red and breathing hard, "Sam, just calm down."

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked, his voice so low that they both had to strain to hear him. Tears pricked at the corners of Sam's eyes and threatened to overflow.

"He doesn't want to be bothered with a little snot like you." Johnson claimed with disgust and hatred in his voice. "He doesn't love you. He didn't want to keep looking after you. Why do you think your here?"

The words were like daggers that pierced Sam's heart. _He doesn't love me_. That just rang over and over in his head. Cynthia was so upset at Johnson right now. She wanted to gain Sam's trust, but Johnson was making that totally impossible now.

"Now, stop acting like a little brat, and grow up." Johnson said and turned on his heels and walked out of the room.

"Sam," Cynthia said, her voice calmer and soothing.

"Leave me alone." Sam said as the tears streamed down his face. Looking at the spot where Johnson had been standing.

"But Sam," the woman tried again but Sam all but glared at her.

Sam looked over at Cynthia with teary eyes. She could see the anguish and despair in his face. "Get out."

Cynthia, not wanting to cause Sam anymore pain, turned and left out of the room.

_He doesn't love me._ Sam fell where he stood, narrowly missing the broken television, crying and hyperventilating. _He doesn't love me_. It's not true. It can't be true. They're lying._Dean loves me. Dean will find me. He has to._

__000000_0000__

Dean was lying in a hospital bed. John was sitting in the chair next to him. Bobby sitting on the other side. John knew when Dean woke up it was not going to be good. Sam was gone. And John knew Dean was not going to be the happiest when he finds out. John was already fuming. He'd already yelled and screamed at the nurses. Screaming about lawyers and suing, because they let someone walk out of here with his son while he was getting checked out himself from the accident. But he knew as much as he ranted and raved, it was going to pale in comparison to what Dean was going to do when he woke up.

Dean began to stir. John got up from the seat and went to his son's side.

"S'my," Dean said not even opening his eyes.

John just shook his head. It didn't matter where they were, his boys would always look for each other when they woke up.

"Dean," John said, reaching out and taking hold of his eldest's hand. Bobby got up and stood on the other side of the bed.

"Dad," Dean said opening his eyes. "Where's Sammy? Is he alright?"

"Dean," John said. Dean looked over at his dad and then over at Bobby.

"Dad." Dean said with a little more sternness in his voice. "Where's Sam?"

"Dean," Bobby said. "Someone took him."

Dean looked at Bobby then his Dad to see if they were playing some kind of sick joke. But when he saw the look on his father's face he knew that what Bobby said was true.

Dean tried to sit up, but his father and "uncle" held him down. And the rage and hell that John knew Dean was going to start was about to start in five...four...three...two...

"You. Let. Someone. Steal. My. Brother!"Dean screamed.

"Dean, you have to calm down." Bobby said.

"Fuck that! Someone took my brother." Dean ranted. The nurse came in when she heard the screaming.

"Mr. Wesley, you must calm down," the nurse said.

John lowered and shook his head because that poor nurse was about to get the butt end of a Dean rant.

"Get the fuck out!" Dean screamed at the nurse, but she just stood there dumbfounded. He then looked over at John. "How did they get him?"

"While the doctors were checking me out," John informed his son. "Bobby said we were all unconscious when we got here. They didn't put us in the same place. Someone came and got your brother. The doctors and nurses let them go."

Dean looked at his father then back at the nurse that was still standing at the door.

"This was your fault." Dean said. "You let someone just take my brother out of here. What kind of place is this?"

"Nobody just let anyone do anything," the nurse said back with just the same amount of gusto as Dean was. "They were Child Protective Services. They had legal right to take him out of here."

Dean closed his eyes. "If you value your life," he said to the nurse in an eerie calm voice. "I would get out of here right now." She was about to protest again, and Dean could almost feel the air move when she opened her mouth. He opened his eyes. He was livid. John and Bobby were almost scared of what he was about to say or do. "Say anything. Anything at all. And I promise you, you will get worse than what the people that took my brother will get." She looked at John and Bobby hoping that they would intervene in her behalf since the teenage boy had just threatened her.

"If I were you," John said. "I'd do what he said."

The nurse turned and walked out of the room. John looked back down at his son. "Dean, you can't threaten the staff." Dean looked at his dad with the same livid look that he gave the nurse.

"Find. My Brother." Dean said.

**TBC**

**A/N: I want to thank everybody that have alerted, favored and followed my story. You have no idea how good this makes me. I have written another one-shot. "Last Drive" Please give it a chance. I would really love to know how you feel about it. **

**A/N: Please review! It's a wonderful feel when I see all the wonderful reviews that I get! :)**

**Love and kisses to you all! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural! :) It belongs to Eric Kripke.**

**Thanks to AlElizabeth for beta'ing my story!**

**A/N: This chapter contains verbal abuse! **

**Chapter Three**

It had been three days since Sam was taken. Dean had been released from the hospital, and they were no way closer to finding Sam than they were three days ago. John and Dean were staying at Bobby's. Dean was all alone in the house; Bobby had gone for a supply run and John was trying to find leads on where Sam could be. Dean felt like he was going to start climbing the walls if he can't go searching too, but John insisted on him staying home and resting.

Dean always loved coming to stay at Bobby's. He and Sam would have so much fun here, but with Sam missing it didn't feel the same. Everything looked the same; books all around the study, a series of phones in the kitchen. Things looked the same. Just the feel was wrong. There was no Sam. Sam was what made this place seem like a home. Sam was what made it feel peaceful. Now that Sam was missing, it was just a building. Dean couldn't stand it. Even though Sam was his pain in the ass little brother, he couldn't take him not being here.

"Sonofabitch!" Dean knocked the stack of books that were next to the desk. How could he let this happen? Sam was his responsibility. He was supposed to take care of him. Now his brother was out there alone and Dean has no idea where he could be. "I will find you Sammy."

_000_000_000_000_

Sam was sitting on the end of the bed, tears brimming behind his eyes. He hasn't left the room since he woke up. That was three days ago. The only person who Sam had seen the first day was the man called Johnson. He'd been less than kind to Sam. Every time Johnson came in he seemed focused only on one thing: causing Sam pain. The man yelled at him, telling him that his brother didn't love him, that his dad hated him. That it was all his fault that he was there. Sam didn't want to believe it. He knew that Dean loved him. He knew Dean would find him. It was just a matter of time. But it didn't hurt any less to have that told to him over and over. He began to hate seeing the doorknob turn. He knew every time that door opened it would be for another wave of verbal abuse. Sam didn't know how much more he would be able to take. When the door opened this time though, it was Cynthia. She came in with a tray of food. She walked over to the bed and sat next to Sam putting the food tray between them.

"I know you must be hungry," she said lifting up the lid over the plate. There were sandwiches, fruit, chips and juice. All looked good to Sam since he hasn't eaten since he got there. Sam tried to stay strong and not give in to his hunger, but that didn't last long. He was famished. He grabbed one of the sandwiches and began eating. Before Sam could finish his sandwich, the door swung open and Johnson came in, furious. Within two steps he was at Sam and Cynthia's side and smacked the sandwich out of Sam's hand and grabbed the tray with the rest of food and threw it across the room. He grabbed Sam's collar and yanked him off the bed and slammed him in the far wall. Sam yelped in pain when his head and back hit the wall. Cynthia ran to Johnson's side and tried to pry his hands off of Sam. Johnson dropped Sam on the floor, turned and faced Cynthia. She backed up just enough to miss the swing of Johnson's arm that almost smacked her across the face. Johnson grabbed Cynthia's arm and dragged her out of the room, closed the door and turned back to Sam.

"Who gave you permission to eat?" Johnson asked, practically foaming at the mouth.

"She gave it to me," Sam said still sitting on the floor from where Johnson had dropped him, "I didn't ask for it."

Johnson walked over to Sam and knelt down in front of him.

"You don't get to eat, unless I say you can eat. Do you understand," Johnson said in an eerie calm voice.

"Yes, sir." Sam said putting his head down. _Where's Dean? I want Dean. He will take care of me._ He's eyes tearing up.

"Now, clean this mess up. If I find so much as one crumb on the floor, you'll be sorry."

"Yes, sir," Sam said with a shaky voice.

Johnson got up and left the room.

_0000_0000_0000_

Johnson walked back downstairs and saw Cynthia sitting on the couch. He walked up to her and gripped her arm, yanking her off of the couch.

"Who told you to give that boy some food?" Johnson yelled.

"The boy hasn't eaten in days." Cynthia said through the pain that was shooting throughout her arm. "He's already too small. He needs to eat. You can't starve him."

"Whose side are you on?" Johnson barked, letting her go.

"I'm on his side," Cynthia said, "He needs to eat. I didn't bring him here to have him worse off than where he came from. You told me that John and Dean were beating him. He needs to know that he can find trust here. If you won't let him at least eat, then he should have just stayed in that dysfunctional household that he come from."

"Well, I could care less," Johnson said walking away from Cynthia towards the kitchen, "If he starved to death."

"What?!" Cynthia said walking behind Johnson. "What are you talking about? You told me that they were abusing Sam. That he needed to be taken out of that house."

"And he did," Johnson replied. "But you don't know the Winchesters. They are coming for him. And I want Sam broken before they get here."

Johnson stalked out of the back door of the kitchen leaving Cynthia standing in the middle of the room, dumbfounded. What has she done? She thought she was protecting Sam. Now she knew she had just taken him away from the people who were protecting him. She had to make this right. If Sam stayed here any longer Johnson was going to kill him.

_0000_0000_0000_

Sam picked up all the food that was thrown and put it back on the tray. He was so hungry, but he was afraid that if he took another bite that Johnson was going to come in and hurt him again. He looked at the tray on the desk and then at the door. Five minutes past; the door knob didn't turn. Ten minutes. His stomach was really growling. Still he didn't hear anything from the other side of the door. Sam knew he shouldn't eat it, but his hunger won out. He rushed over to the food and started eating the other sandwiches. He scarfed down all of them in record time. He was about to eat the apple when the door knob turned and the door opened.

**TBC**

**A/N: Thank you to everybody who have _alerted, followed and favorite_ my story. You have no idea how much that means to me. :)**

**Please leave a review. Let me know what you think. Your reviews inspire me to continue on with my stories! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural.**

**A special thanks to AlElizabeth for beta'ing my story! :)**

**Warning: Verbal and physical abuse in this chapter.**

Chapter 4

Dean was walking around the salvage yard, looking at all the cars that he and Sam would play in when they were younger. John would drop them off sometimes days or weeks at a time and they would spend countless hours playing in the cars. Every part of that property was a painful reminder that Sam was gone. Dean couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't sit around and not look for Sam. Dean headed back to the house and started getting his things together. Just enough items that he could carry because John had the Impala. He grabbed his gun, put it in his waistband at the small of his back, and put his knife in his inside leather coat pocket. He was walking down the stairs when there was a knock on the front door.

_0000_0000_0000_

The door opened and Johnson walked in seeing Sam with the apple in his hand. A feral growl came out of Johnson that made Sam's heart jump to his throat. Sam was frozen in fear. Johnson got to him, grabbed him from the back of the neck and dragged him to the bathroom. When they got there, Johnson made him regurgitate everything he had just eaten. When he was done, Johnson half pulled and half dragged Sam back to the room. Sam was really starting to get weak from malnutrition and then having been made to vomit. When they got back to the room, Johnson threw Sam onto the bed.

"Why?" Sam asked with tears in his eyes. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Johnson walked out of the room without saying a word, coming back moments later holding a familiar-looking note book that Sam thought he lost a few months ago.

"This is why you're here," Johnson said tossing the notebook on the bed by Sam. "If I catch you eating and it's not something that I've given you, you won't get off so easy. I'll say when you can eat." Johnson turned and walked out of the room and left Sam on the bed staring at the notebook.

Sam reached for the notebook and all he could hear was his dad telling him not to write anything down in school about how they lived. He never wanted anyone to see this book. It was suppose to be his own personal journal. He remembered the day he lost it. Dean knew about the journal and told him to leave it in the motel.

"_Don't take it to school," Dean said. "It's bad enough you have it. I don't want you to get in trouble with dad if he finds it. Or worse, it gets left at school."_

"_I'm not going to lose it," Sam insisted, rolling his eyes at his brother's worries. "And dad keeps a journal, why can't I?"_

"_You know, it's almost amazing, as much as you two butt heads that you both are so much alike."_

"_What?! Shut up. Jerk." there was no anger behind those words. Dean looked at him and smiled._

"_Yeah, whatever Bitch," Dean said ruffling Sam's hair._

That day had gone smoothly, until Sam went to the cafeteria for lunch. He didn't always sit with the other kids and Dean had a different lunch period than Sam, so he thought he would work on his journal while he was eating. When he got to his locker though, he search and searched for his journal and couldn't find it. His heart leaped into throat. Where is it? He couldn't find it. Dean's going to be mad. He never told Dean that he lost the journal. Now he knew the reason he was there; the reason Children Protective Services found them; it was all his fault. If he had listen to Dean and left the journal in the room the authorities wouldn't have found them or learned their names. With tears streaming down his face, Sam knew everything that was happening was because of him. It was all his fault.

_0000_0000_0000_

Johnson left the room, after giving Sam the journal, and went back to his room. He sat behind his desk and pulled out a photo and stared at it.

"Everything is going as planned," he said to the photo. "Soon, everything will be perfect as it should have been." He sat the photo back down on the desk and walked out the room. The photo was an old picture of John, Mary, little Dean in John's arms and baby Sammy in Mary's arms, standing in front of their home.

_0000_0000_0000_

Dean opened the door. When he saw who was standing on the front porch, he nearly slammed the door in her face. The fact that it was a woman went straight out the window. She was the reason Sam was gone. Dean grabbed her by her collar, yanked her into the house and closed the door by shoving her back up it.

"Where is my brother?" Dean asked putting the knife he had in his coat up to her neck.

"Please, Dean, let me explain," Cynthia begged.

"I shouldn't let you explain shit! You stole my brother!"

"Dean, please. I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken him. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting him, taking him out of this household," Cynthia explained frantically in case Dean did decide to use the knife.

"No. I protect Sam. He needs nothing when he is with me. He doesn't want for anything as long as I am around. Protecting Sam is my job. And you took him from me," Dean said backing up from Cynthia, tears stinging the back of his eyes. "He was fine. What gave you the right to take my brother?"

"Dean, I am so sorry," Cynthia said. "That's why I'm here. I want to take you to him."

_0000_00000_0000_

Sam was sitting on the bed looking at the journal when the door opened. Johnson walked in the room.

"Get up," Johnson ordered.

Sam got off the bed and walked over to Johnson. He knew whatever was about to happen was not going to be good, so he just prepared himself for the worst. Johnson waited while Sam walked over to him.

"Look at me," Johnson said. Sam raised his head and Johnson looked at the sunken eyes staring at him. Johnson walked over to the tray that was still sitting on the desk. He knocked the tray back on the floor. "Come here, and bring that journal with you."

Sam grabbed the journal off the bed and walked over to the desk.

"Sit down," Johnson said. Sam sat down and put the notebook on the desk. "In the drawer there is a pen. I want you to write a new entry in your journal."

Sam did what he was told and opened up the journal to a blank page.

"I want you to write this; _'I hate my brother Dean'_"

Sam looked up at Johnson with pure horror on his face. Tears prickled the backs of Sam's eyes.

"What?" Sam cried.

"I hate my brother Dean," Johnson repeated, "I've read your journal. I know what's in there. I also know that there are about twenty pages left. I want you to fill up those pages with _'I hate my brother Dean'_."

"I can't write that," Sam cried, tears streaming down his face. "I won't write that."

Johnson, fuming, grabbed Sam by the back of the neck and squeezed his neck hard. Sam yelped in pain. "You will write what I tell you to write and you will finish that notebook with what I told you to write. If you don't I will kill your brother. Don't think that just because I'm here that I don't know Dean's at your Uncle Bobby's house. The old Salvage yard. Now, what did I tell you to write? I want to hear you say it."

Sam, crying, gripping the notebook, stammered weakly. "I...h-hate...m-my...brother...D-dean."

"Good," Johnson said cheerfully. "When I get back, you better have that written on at least five of those pages." Johnson let go of Sam's neck and walked out of the room. Sam put his head down on the desk and cried.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam said. He lifted up his head and began to write what he was told. If all he had to do was write it, it meant that Dean was safe. He wouldn't hurt Dean if he wrote what he was told. Write it just don't believe it, he told himself. You're doing this to save Dean. He said that over and over in his head.

Twenty minutes later, Sam was still sitting at the desk writing that dreadful sentence. The more he wrote it the more his heart broke. He knew it was a lie but seeing it for the past five pages broke his heart more and more. The doorknob turned, and Sam's heart leapt into his chest. He didn't know how much more abuse he could take. The door opened and Sam, too afraid to turn and see who was coming in, put his head down and just waited for the abuse to continue.

"Sammy."

**TBC**

**A/N: I want to thank everybody who have _Favored, Alerted, and Followed_ this story. You have no idea how much it means to me. Much love to you all! :) **

**A/N: Please review! Your reviews is what keeps me motivated to continue on with my stories! :) **

**Love and Kisses to you all! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural.**

**Special thanks to AlElizabeth for beta'ing my story. :)**

**A/N: I know this chapter is a little short but I wanted to get it up so that I can have the reunion up! :)**

Chapter 5

"_Sammy."_

Sam's head shot up. He turned in the chair to see if the voice he heard really belonged to who he thought it did. Dean was standing in the doorway. He was really there. Sam got out of the chair and ran into Dean's out-stretched arms. Dean scooped the kid into a strong hug. He was so happy to see his brother again. Sam holding on to Dean so tightly, scared that if he let go Dean would just disappear. Dean wanted to check Sam over to see if he was okay, but he just didn't have the heart or the strength to let Sam go. He too, just wanted to hold his brother forever. It had been only four days since this whole drama started, but the way they were holding each other, some would think that they hadn't seen each other in months.

Dean tried to put Sam down, but the more he attempted to lower Sam, the tighter his brother's grip became. So Dean decided to walk over to the bed and sit down and let Sam sit on his lap.

"Sammy," Dean said, sitting down on the bed trying to pry Sam's hands off. "Let me go so I can check you out." Sam shook his head, which was basically buried in the crook of Dean's neck.

"No," Sam cried. "I'm so sorry, D'n"

"It's not your fault, Sammy," Dean reassured Sam. Sam nodded against Dean's neck.

"All my fault. Please don't hate me," Sam cried almost hysterically. Dean could barely understand him. Over and over he apologized. Finally with a firm grip Dean pulled Sam off of him. Sam reluctantly let go of Dean, got off his lap and stood in front of him. Dean was finally able to really look at Sam and he saw the red marks that were on the side of his neck. He saw that Sam's tear-stained face was pale, his eyes were sunken in. Sam just really looked tired and upset. But, Dean knew there was something that was really bothering him.

"I'm sorry, Dean" Sam cried. "It's all my fault. I didn't tell you and it's all my fault."

"Sammy, this is not your fault," Dean said holding on to Sam's arms. Sam squirmed out of Dean's grasp and walked over to the desk, grabbed the notebook and handed it to Dean. Dean looked at the notebook and knew what Sam was talking about.

"Oh, Sammy," Dean said looking at Sam's journal.

"I l-lost...i-it at school...the-the same d-day you s-said lea-leave it in the m-motel," Sam was almost hyperventilating trying to get that out. "T-that's how they knew."

Dean looked at the notebook, then back up at his still crying brother. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him into his embrace. Sam was literally shaking in his arms.

_000_0000_0000_0000_

John got back to Bobby's house.

"Dean," John called out. No answer. John walked in the kitchen and saw there was a note on the fridge in Dean's handwriting. '_Dad, that social worker came here wanting me to go pick up Sam. We are at this address 1341 Chesterfield Ln. Come soon. He's only going to want to go home. Dean'_

"Dammit, Dean," John cursed walking back out of the house. Dean knew better than to go somewhere he wasn't sure about, especially with someone had was enemy. But then, Dean never really thought straight when it came to Sam. He looked back at the note and noticed the address again and left out of the house.

_0000_0000_0000_000_

Sam finally calmed down in Dean's arm that he fell asleep. Dean looked down at him and saw that Sam was completely exhausted. Three days of abuse and sleeping on and off would do that to you. Dean laid Sam down on the bed. He stirred but didn't wake up. Dean pocketed the journal, grabbed Sam's coat and picked back up his brother, Sam's head lying on Dean's shoulder. Sam nestled further into Dean's neck. Dean turned for the door when it opened.

"Are you ready?" Cynthia asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied.

They walked into the hallway and headed for the front door. Just short of reaching the exit, there was an unmistakable sound of the hammer of a gun cocking. Dean turned and saw the gun trained on him and Sam.

"Welcome, Dean. I've been expecting you," Johnson said holding the gun. "Cynthia, what am I going to do with you?" He pointed the gun at Cynthia. "Even though I needed Dean here for this to work, you have been working against me since we started."

"You lied to me," Cynthia exclaimed. "You made me risk my job for a lie. You told me Sam was being abused, and when I brought Sam here thinking that I'm helping. But you didn't want to help, you starved him, told him his family hated him. I don't know what you're trying to do Johnson but I want no part of it; you're sick!"

"You did what!?" Dean asked, turning his wide eyes to the man named Johnson

"Why did you want Sam?" Cynthia demanded.

"I don't want Sam and I don't want Dean. They're just bait. And they fell right for it." Johnson said laughing.

"Bait?" Dean said. "What do you mean bait?"

"You were bait," Johnson said.

"He wants me."

Dean turned around saw who was standing at the door behind him.

"Dad."

**TBC**

**A/N: Thank you to everyone that have _alerted, favored, and followed_ my story! :) You have no idea how grateful I am that you did! **

**Please review and let me know what you think. Your reviews are why I get up in the morning and check my emails! :) **

**Much love to you all!**

**Mandancie :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: As much as I would love to, I still don't own Supernatural. **

**Special thanks to AlElizabeth for beta'ing my story.**

**A/N: Here is the back story to John and Johnson. I hope you enjoy this.**

**Warning: Attempted Non-con (rape)**

**Chapter 6**

**June 1972**

Mary is out with her friends walking around town. They're out just relaxing and enjoying the day and each other's company because Mary knew that her friends were going to be leaving for the summer to visit family. And even though they both asked if she wanted to come as well, she knew that would be impossible for her. She kept up the facade very well. Her friends only knew her as a junior in high school. They didn't know about the other side of her- the family business that kept her close to home. This particular summer wasn't all bad, not having her best friends around. This summer she met two Marines that would change her life. Mary had seen them around town. She knew they were friends. She knew that people had referred to them as "The Two Johns". She didn't know what that meant until she bumped into them by happenstance.

"John Winchester," John said shaking Mary's hand. "And this is Johnson Peters."

"J.W And J.P sound good to me," Mary said with a smile. "My name is Mary Campbell."

"Nice to meet you," John replied.

After their initial meeting, the three of them became inseparable and were often seen together around town. The guys would come and pick Mary up and they would spend the entire day together. John and Johnson also met Mary's parents, Deanna and Samuel.

While they were out riding around town, Johnson noticed how close Mary and John were becoming. He was becoming the third wheel. He didn't like it. Actually he wanted Mary all to himself, but she wouldn't go anywhere with Johnson unless John came with them.

Johnson had figured out a way to keep John away, and be able to spend more time with Mary alone. Johnson came up with his plan. It involved the fact that John had to work late at the garage. He lied to Mary to get her to come out with him and go to the diner by telling her that John would meet them there. Mary got into the car and Johnson drove off. Something felt off to Mary and she wasn't sure if it was her hunter's instinct or not.

"When will J.W. Meet up with us?" Mary asked.

"Don't worry about John," Johnson said. Driving the car to the end of a secluded road and parking it by an old rundown house.

"What are you doing?" Mary asked, starting to get really uncomfortable.

Johnson looked over at her. "You are so beautiful," he said, running his hand in her hair and putting it back behind her ear. Mary moved her head away from his touch.

"Johnson, stop." Mary demanded. "Take me home."

Johnson reached over, and much to Mary's surprise, he grabbed her and brought her close to him and kissed her on the mouth. Mary tried to push him away, but the grip he had on her was too strong. She tried to get away from him, but he wouldn't let her go until he was ready.

Mary finally shoved away from Johnson just to feel him grab her clothes and tried to remove them. In a frantic state she hit him across the mouth and tried to get out of the car, but the passenger side door was not working. Mary, scared to death, had to fight and claw to keep Johnson off of her. She knew when she couldn't get out of the car she was going to have to get control of the situation. She went back to the training that her Dad and Uncle had showed her. 'Let them think they have the upper hand and then strike'. That was what she was going to have to let happen. Tears streaming down her face, Mary stopped struggling and waited. She waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. Her moment came when Johnson let her go to pull his shirt over his head. A move that her Dad had shown her if someone tried to take advantage of her. She waited until she saw the shirt go over his head and that's when she attacked. Once Johnson's neck was exposed as hard as she could she hit him in the throat. Johnson's arms stuck in his shirt, collapse in a heap trying to untangle himself. Mary struck again, hitting him in the same spot. She then punched him across the head and he collapse in a heap on her lap. Crying, Mary crawled out from under Johnson and made her way out of the driver side door. When she got out of the car, she ran back to town. She looked down the road when she made it to the street light at the corner. That's when she saw the most comforting sight- the garage where John worked. She could see him standing in the window getting ready to go. She ran over to the garage. At the same time John is walking out the door, Mary ran towards him.

"John!" Mary cried, stumbling slightly in her hast to reach him.

"Mare," John asked, concern etched into his handsome features. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Mary ran into John's arms and sobbed.

"Please, just take me home," Mary cried in John's arms.

John nodded, took his coat off and put it over Mary's shoulders. He escorted her to his car and helped her inside the passenger side. She looked up at John with tear-stained eyes. She felt so much more calm being with him. Mary quietly sobbed in her hands.

"Mary," John asked, worry still clouding his eyes. "You want to tell me what happened?"

"I'm sorry," Mary said. "I shouldn't have gone with him alone."

"Went with whom?" John asked. "Mary, what happened?"

"Your friend, Johnson," Mary said through tears. "He attacked me. He wanted to get me alone, I guess. He tried to hurt me."

John embraced Mary as she cried on his shoulder.

"I am so sorry, John" Mary apologized. She should have known better. She was a hunter for God's sake! She had been around monsters since the time she could walk. She should have seen this coming.

"Hush that," John said. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I never wanted to come in between your friendship." Mary continued sadly, getting out of John's embrace. "I didn't..."

"Stop," John said cutting her off. "You did nothing wrong and there is no reason for you to apologize. Let me take you home." John got up and walked over to the driver side and got in. Mary closed the door and put her head down. John drove her home and dropped her off. He asked her if she wanted him to stay but she declined. So he left and went back home. He knew then that in order not to kill his 'friend' he needed to get away from him. He went home, noticing that Johnson was not there, packed up his duffel bag and left to find him a place by himself. As John was walking out of the door, Johnson stepped into the apartment.

"Where do you think you're going?" Johnson asked.

John dropped his duffel bag and hit his friend on the jaw. "You are truly a bastard, you know that!"

"What the hell!"

"Why'd you do it?" John said. "Why would you hurt her like that?"

"She's mine. You knew I wanted her."

"Seriously! You attack her. What makes you think she would want anything to do with you now? You really hurt her. If you wanted to date her that's fine, but the moment she said 'no' you should have stopped. Now she wants nothing to do with you. And I don't either."

John grabbed his duffel again and walked out of the apartment.

Weeks passed since Johnson had tried to attack Mary. John had found himself a cheap apartment close to the garage he worked at to rent. He and Mary really started seeing each other. They really started to get close. Johnson saw them, from afar, watching their every move, seething. He knew that what John was committing the ultimate betrayal. John knew that Johnson loved Mary, but she was hanging around with John and not with him.

"One day, John Winchester, you will be sorry for ever coming between me and the woman that I love."

**TBC**

**A/N: I want to thank everyone that have favored, alerted, and followed me and my stories! You all are greatly appreciated! :)**

**Please read and review! I read from another author, "reviews are the only payment that we receive" I am very much inclined to agree with them. Reviews are my 'bread and butter.' **

**Thank you so much**

**Mandancie :)**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural. That solely belongs to Eric Kripke. **_

_**A special thanks to AlElizabeth for beta'ing my story! :)**_

1997

Dean, carrying a sleeping Sam, stood motionless in front of the door. Cynthia had paused next to Dean. John walked over to Dean and put his hand on Sam's head.

"Twenty-five years," John said looking at his sons then turns and faces Johnson. "You take my son, after all this time. Why?"

"She was supposed to be mine! You took her from me!" Johnson yelled, his face red and the grip on the gun unwavering.

"Dean," John said. "Go, take Sam and put him in the car. You stay with your brother."

"But Dad-" Dean started; only to have the rest of his words die in his throat at the expression on his father's face. Dean rushed outside, his thoughts on a late autumn night many years ago when his Dad had told him to leave a different house with his baby brother in his arms and headed for the Impala that was parked right out front of the house.

John looked back at Johnson. "I didn't take anyone from you, you ass! You tried to rape her. You lied to her. You knew she didn't want to go anywhere alone with you or me. She was a good woman. And you tried to take advantage of that."

"You knew I loved her, but you just had to try and make your move," Johnson argued, his eyes bulging in his head in rage.

"Johnson, seriously, you're nuts. I didn't do anything all those years ago but I will not allow you to hurt my boys just to get back at me. You hurt my son, and I can't allow that," John told his former friend in a deadly calm voice.

"Those boys were supposed to be mine!" The man shrieked in outrage, spittle spraying from his mouth.

"What is wrong with you?" Cynthia asked, her voice trembling with fright and disgust.

"You know what, Cynthia," Johnson said pointing his gun at her. "You have been a pain in my ass this entire time." Johnson fired his gun. John tried to reach Cynthia, push her out of the bullet's path but it was too late and the woman collapsed in his arms.

Dean was settling Sam into car when he heard the gun shot. Dean closed the passenger door quietly and turned towards the house. He knew he was supposed to stay with Sam in the car but he couldn't let his Dad take on a crazed lunatic without any backup. Dean peered at Sam, still asleep in the back seat and couldn't help to be happy that his brother was back 'home' where he belonged. Dean pulled he gun out from his waistband and went back into the house.

Dean staggered to a halt at the tableau playing out before his eyes; John was holding a dying Cynthia in his arms while Johnson had his gun trained on his father.

"Dad," Dean said. Dean reached the door when Johnson fired the gun.

"Dean!" John screamed, terror clear in his gruff voice.

"Dean!" Sam called as his eyes shot opened. He realized he was no longer in the bedroom prison anymore, but the familiar surroundings of the Impala.

"Dad. Dean" Sam opened the car door and ran back to the house. Sam saw his father crouched over Dean's unmoving body in the front hallway. Dean's gun was lying on the floor by the door where it had slipped from his brother's lax fingers; Sam picked the weapon up.

"Dean," John called, checking his son to see if he had been injured.

"Dad, I'm fine, "Dean said, sitting up. "Something pushed me out of the way. Where's my...Sam," Dean and John looked up at the door and saw Sam standing at the door holding Dean's gun.

"Sam," Dean wrestled himself from John's grasp and approached his brother, "Sam."

Sam looked up at Dean, eyes glazed, like he really hasn't really woken up. "Hey, Dean"

"Hey Sammy," Dean said softly, taking the gun out of Sam's hands. John walked over to his sons, glad that they were both unharmed.

"Hey, Dad?" Sam asked still looking at Dean. "Can we go home now?"

"Yeah, son. Let's go home."

Sam turned and staggered towards the car, Dean right behind him. John turned and searched the house for Johnson, but he was nowhere to be found; he must have fled during the commotion. John decided that getting his sons away from the house was his first priority, however, and focused solely on that. When John got to the Impala, he saw Dean and Sam sitting in the back seat. Sam was leaning on Dean's shoulder asleep like he's been sleeping there for hours. John got in the car and drove off with nothing said between the two eldest Winchesters.

_0000_0000_0000_000_000_

Johnson was sitting in a dilapidated house with a strange old chalice filled with blood. At his feet was the body of the homeless man who was squatting in the house at the time.

"Yes, I know... But you didn't see it... There is something different with him... He flung Dean away from that bullet... Yes, I was trying to kill him, but Dean isn't who we should be worried about... I know the only way to get to Sam is... But what to do about John... Yes sir... I know sir... Trust me, things are still going to plan... I will get Sam to use his powers... Yes sir... Next time, I know how to handle it... Trust me sir, it will be Dean.

_I would like to thank everyone who has **favored, alerted, and followed **my story! :) _

_Please review. I always love to know what you thought of this chapter! :) _

_Much love to you all! :)_

_Mandancie_


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural. They belong to Eric Kripke.**

**A special thanks to AlElizabeth for beta'ing my story! :)**

**A/N: Here is the last chapter. Don't worry I am currently writing a sequel to this story. I really want to thank you all for the support that you have shown me through my first chapter-fic. Thank you all to everyone that _alerted, favored, and followed_ me and my story. There is not enough appreciation that convey how you make me feel. **

**Much love to you all**

**Mandancie**

**Epilogue**

Present Time

"Oh Sammy," Dean said, his eyes pinched with sadness as he thought about those horrible handful of days when Sam had been missing.

"See, you do remember," Sam stated but there was no satisfaction in his voice.

"Sam, you have to know, it was never about you." Dean told his brother. "Whatever you wrote in that journal, that's not why they came after you."

Sam put his head down. He knew there was one part that he never told Dean. All those years ago, he was forced to write something that he never told anybody. Not his father, not even his big brother because it just hurt too much… as if telling them would make those he loved believe the words he'd been forced to write in his own hand. When Sam finally lifted up his head, he noticed that Dean was no long in the library. Sam sighed. What am I going to do now?

Dean walked back in the library with a familiar notebook that looked old and worn. He sat the notebook in front of Sam. The younger man stared at the notebook in front of him and didn't know how to take it. That book that caused all those problems in the first place and the one part that never wanted Dean to see had been here, with his brother the entire time.

"You had it," Sam almost whispered, belatedly afraid that Dean would be angry at him for what he'd been forced to write, "All this time."

"Yeah, I did but I never opened it. Never read it." Dean said walking towards the trash can.

Sam let out a sigh of relief. Dean pretended he didn't hear it. He walked back over to Sam with the trash can in his hand. "Now, do you want to tell me what you didn't tell me then or do you just want to drop it?"

Sam thought long and hard. The words still hurt because he never, _never _truly hated his brother. Sure he'd been angry with Dean more times than he could count but that was just what siblings did- they fought like it was the end of the world but then they got over it and made amends. Besides, Sam had written in the journal so long ago he was sure that it wouldn't matter to Dean if he told him the secret he'd been hiding. "While I was in that room, he made me write something over and over. He told me that if I didn't he would go to Bobby's and kill you." Sam opened up the notebook and went to the infamous page that he never wanted to see again. His own familiar scrawl covering the page with those hateful words. He knew it wasn't true, but it still affected him all these years later. He showed Dean the book. Dean humoured his brother and looked at the one sentence that was written over and over. _'I hate __my brother Dean.'_

"Dean, I am so sorry." Sam said tears pricking the back of his eyes. "He made me..."

"Stop," Dean said cutting him off. "I know what you did. I know what he made you do. There is nothing you need to be sorry for. I brought this out for you to do this." Dean put the trash can down on the floor by Sam and then pulled out his Zippo lighter and handed it to Sam.

"Burn it."

"What?" Sam asked, slightly shocked. Dredging up the past was taking an uncommonly steep toll on the younger man and he suddenly felt nauseous.

"Burn the book." Dean said. "You've been through hell those four days. You don't need a reminder of those days. Burn it."

Sam looked at Dean then back at the notebook. He grabbed the notebook and the lighter, flicking the wheel and holding the bristling pages under the flame and waited for the notebook to catch fire. When a good portion of the corner crumbled into ash, Sam dropped the book in the trash can and watched it burn. It almost felt like a relief to Sam. As if all those years ago those four days were being burned in the trash. The abuse. The neglect. All burned up.

**The End**

**A/N: Please review! Your reviews are my bread and butter! :)**


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